See How She Dies
by Poisonchik88
Summary: Crossover CSI:NY.Stella Bronson becomes the target of the FBI’s most wanted Serial Killer.The BAU is called in to assist.Stella could end up his 37th victim. But one things for certain she would be his Mona Lisa -His masterpiece. M/G JJ/Rossi D/L SMACKED
1. Prologue

Title: See How She Dies.

Summary: Crossover with CSI: NY When Stella Bronson becomes the target of one the FBI's most wanted Serial Killers. The BAU is called in to assist to make sure Stella doesn't become another victim on the killer's trophy wall. For him, Stella is the ultimate high. She would be is 37th victim and his best piece of work yet.

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A/n: It's been such a long time since I wrote anything serious for Criminal Minds and lately I've been wanting to take a break from the Soap Opera fandom and sink my teeth back into Criminal Minds.

Hope you enjoy!

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He desired women. All kinds, all shapes, all sizes. But his favorite was a woman of power. A smart, intelligent, independent, and powerful – that's what made his blood quicken and gave him the best high. He would fix on a woman and build imaginary stories around her. Some of the women he knew well, others not at all. Most of them faded quickly. Only a few became objects of desire.

That desire is why he found himself trailing behind her in the service alley; with his hands in the pockets of his worn gabardines. The rope was in his jacket balled up as he stalked his prey, his new work of art.

He stalked his prey and took photographs of her and than turned them into highly sexual drawings. All he needed was a nude photograph off the internet as a base and than he could create and produce a fantasy that appealed to both his senses and his need to posses. He could have any woman he wanted and in any way. The discovery excited him almost as much as the killing. _And his mother told him an art degree would do nothing for him._

It changed him. He discovered art could be used as a weapon.

His first use of his new found weapon had been back in his early thirties, late twenties. It had been one of the cheerleaders from his university who had denied his interest and turned him down flat, laughing at him with , a cluster of friends

standing around her. A few glanced over their shoulders at him standing alone, as always. He was a social nonentity. But she paid for her careless talk. He held her comment to his breast for three years, knowing his time would come. And it did.

One day he sat her sitting on the benchs all by herself , pen in her mouth as she studied her textbook. He must of snapped a half a dozen photo's of her that day. Than he went home and drew his photo's with the perfect nude base he found on Sex and Submission's website.

He slipped it under her door that very night. He repeated his mocking drawing seventeen times before the thrill of it just wasn't enough. He soon found out that although it was deeply pleasurable, it lacked the intensity and specificity of murder.

She became his first victim, his first piece of art. He drew her as the last spark of life left her eyes and the blood dripped from her nose. He stapled it to her dorm room door and still after all these years savored the sounds of her roommates screams. There was nothing like your first kill. His only regret was that

she had not known that death was coming, so that she might savor the pain; and that he had not had time to enjoy her death , like he did the others.

The media called him the Manhattan Still Life Butcher , It wasn't as catchy as the Zodiac, Jack The Ripper, or the Night Stalker but it would do. The FBI profilers called him an organized, hedonistic, serial killer. Who was learning as he went and took great strides forward with each murder. The simply called himself the Portrait Maker. What it lacked in elegancy it was made up for in the terror it struck in hearts of woman everywhere. He quickly became one of the FBI's most sought after monsters that developed an insatiable taste for the thrill of the kill. He wandered the states, leaving a body here or there but Manhattan was his favorite playground. It is the greatest city in the world after all.

It was here he found what he was sure was going to be his greatest master piece. Stella Bonasera. She was Mac Taylor's right hand woman and second in command of the New York Police Department's Crime Lab.

She was a woman of power. His favorite. Her perfume could arouse the dead. She had a long, slender body, with a small waist and a graceful neckline, when seen from the back with her dark curly hair up over her small ears.

She was beautiful and soon to be his.

He watched from the shadows across the street as she kissed her date goodnight and showed him the door. A bubble of jealously flared up inside him but he pushed it down.

She would be his. Sooner or Later. They always were.

He waited at least hour after the lights went off before walking into her building and up to her apartment that he followed her to, two nights ago.

He thought about breaking in and watching her sleep. To leave his precious drawing her pillow where it would be the first thing , she saw when she awoke. But he knew she light sleeper and a man like him had to be careful.

So he settled for sliding it under the door inside. Attached with a message:

_**You've been chosen. You belong to me now. Don't ever forget it. Till we met.**_

**-Portrait Maker.**

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A/n: That's the prologue ? What do you think. Different from my normal tastes isn't it. I hope you got a taste for my twisted little serial killer there. Lol.

**As far as pairings go. I'm going to do something different and leave it up to you. Crossover Pairings Included.  
**

**So Vote For the Pairings You Want to See:  
**

**JJ/Reid. **

**Or **

**JJ/Rossi (My new addiction) **

**JJ/Hotch. **

**(Keep in mind , JJ is still pregnant.)  
**

**Reid/JJ**

**Reid/Somone else. **

**Reid/Lindsey  
**

**Hotch/Emily (Again a new addiction for me) **

**Hotch/Hailey **

**Hotch/Penelope**

**Hotch/Lindsey. **

**Penelope/Danny**

**Penelope/ Flack**

**Penelope/Morgan**

**Penelope/Mac**

**Flack/Stella. **

**Mac/Stella**

**Hawkes/Stella. **

**Also does anyone want a reappearance of Gideon in this fic? Or no? **

**Thanks for reading and hope you review/vote. **

**Dee. **


	2. Too Close To Home

_A/n: _**T****hanks so much for all the reviews. I'm sorry I didn't get back to any of them **_That isn't my style. I swear I've just been _**really sick lately with a throat infection**_ and haven't felt like doing much of anything. Lol. So sorry! Anyway, I just want to let you know that they are **definitely appreciated!**_

_The idea for the add in of the poem came from a discussion in my English Lit Class about his poem and I couldn't help but think it had a stalker feel to it. So I thought it would be perfect for his fic._

_Oh and this takes place after 'Lo-Fi', 'Mayhem, and Paradise_

_Twas noontide of summer,  
And mid-time of night;  
And stars, in their orbits,  
Shone pale, thro' the light  
Of the brighter, cold moon,  
'Mid planets her slaves,  
Herself in the Heavens,  
Her beam on the waves.  
I gazed awhile  
On her cold smile;  
Too cold- too cold for me-  
There pass'd, as a shroud,  
A fleecy cloud,  
And I turned away to thee,  
Proud Evening Star,  
In thy glory afar,  
And dearer thy beam shall be;  
For joy to my heart  
Is the proud part  
Thou bearest in Heaven at night,  
And more I admire  
Thy distant fire,  
Than that colder, lowly light-_ **Evening Star By Edgar Allen Poe**.

**Chapter 2: Too Close To Home**

Settling on the hard bench seat across from her apartment. The Portrait Maker hunched his shoulders and watched the house. He saw her shadow against the curtain. There she was, still in lingerie. And her hair was all mussed up from being awoken from her peaceful slumber. He knew he shouldn't have gone in apartment after leaving the note. But he couldn't help himself. He just had to see her. She had awoken the minute his hand twisted her doorknob. The lights hurried on –and he panicked as the brightness flooded his senses.

He froze like a deer in highlights as she sat up in the bed her gun drawn and trained at him as he stood frozen in the doorway. Her finger twitched towards the trigger and he suddenly remembered how to move. He was flying past her living room as two shoots rang out behind him. Years of being the town's favorite punching bag taught him how to run that fast.

The minute he hit the sidewalk, after knocking an elderly lady out of his way down he stairs, he ducked behind a alley and stripped off his mask and gloves, and pulled down his collar, brushing the wrinkles out of his all black suit and smoothing back his dishelmed hair.

He came back around the alley looking like a respectable business man on his way home from a late night at the office. He walked right past her as she stood in the middle of the sidewalk her gun at her side, and her cell phone pressed to her ear.

Sometimes it paid off to be forgettable- invisible.

He watched as she leaned into the arms of the same man who was constantly at her place and walked her home a few moments ago. He knew his name, and where he lived too. Soon enough he would be dealt with but for now he was insignificant. All that mattered was _**her**_. After a few minutes, he began to manufacture fantasies. Pretend he was the guy with his lips on her heated kiss. That he wasn't the one looking in as another man touched what was his.

He was good at this: a specialist, in a way. There were times when he'd been locked up as punishment, was allowed no books, no games, no TV. A claustrophobic—and they knew he was claustrophobic, that was part of the punishment—he'd escaped into fantasy to preserve his mind, sat on his bunk and turned to the blank facing wall and played his own mind-films, dancing dreams of sex , torture, rope and charcoal for his drawing pads. Lots of it.

Stella had starred in the early mind-films; fewer later on, almost none in the past five years. He'd almost forgotten her. Then her name and picture appeared in he paper and she was back. She was one of his greatest conquests yet. The best part was , earlier on when he first fantasized about her. He was too weak, too dumb to have her. Now he was the fourth most wanted man in the country. He could have anything now. And he planned it.

He stared at the wet and glistening sidewalk eyes open, his empty briefcase hanging preciously off the desk, and watched, in his mind, as she walked across her bedrooms toward him, peeling off a silken purple robe. He smiled. When he

touched her, her flesh was warm, and smooth, unblemished. He could feel her on his fingertips. "Do this," he whispered, eyes closing as he leaned his head back on the wet bench. Then he growled "Down here," he'd say…

He sat for an hour, for two, whispering occasionally to himself and drawing the eye of a passerby or two. Then he sighed and shivered, and woke from the daydream to find her standing at the window with nothing but a sheet wrapped around her. The perfect ending to the movie playing in his mind's eye movie. He carefully but quickly snapped a photo. To remember there first time together.

Time to go. He could feel her making eye contact. Stella Bonasera was psychic. She could look right into your brain and say the words you were trying to hide.

He looked away, to protect himself.

So she wouldn't know he was coming. **His little Evening Star**. He thought to himself as he walked down the sidewalk reciting the poem beneath his breath.

"_And I turned away to thee, Proud Evening Star, In thy glory afar, And dearer thy beam shall be; For joy to my heart." _

_

* * *

_Penelope Garcia was in the middle of watching one of her favorite movies – Rebecca. An old Hitchcock classic in fact it was the only one of his to ever win a Best Picture Oscar. She was just getting to the good part when her phone started to ring. Immediately her hear dropped into her stomach, automatically thinking it was Derek despite the lack of special ring tone evidence. But no one else ever called her that late.

"What's a matter Sugar?" She asked automatically as she sat up straighter on the couch.

She nearly died of shock at the voice on the other end of the phone. "Still got that mind –reading ability of yours Penny? I need a favor Penny and only you can do it for me."

She blinked thinking she had one to many late night margaritas, and pinched her arm. She hadn't heard that voice is almost seven years.

"Penny?" The Staten Island accent invaded her senses. He always laid it on thick when he said her name, _especially when he was hovering over her with his mouth on her….. _

Best not go there. She cleared her throat and checked to make sure she wasn't actually drooling. She swore she could feel him smirking.

"I'm here what do you need Dan?"

* * *

Rossi sat on the edge of their bed and listened to her breathing taking in how peaceful she looked. She shifted towards him in her in sleep and murmured something that sounded suspiciously like his name.

He reached and gently brushed a fallen lock off hair off her forehead. He didn't want to wake her, knowing that she hadn't been sleeping well these past few days. But it had been days since he touched her, held her, and he found himself unable to resist. He brushed her lips with his fingertips as if he were memorizing them. Savoring them. He heard a soft sigh escape her lips but knew from her breathing that she was still asleep.

The corners of his lips twitched up in a smile and he slowly pulled his hand away from her lips and placed it over her expanded abdomen. Where their child grew inside her. He felt the baby kick against his hand and JJ groaned softly as she exhaled and shifted again under his touch or the kick of the baby whichever.

He traced a path on her skin with a fingertip following the bottom of her ribcage surprised when she placed a hand on her abdomen just below his so closing they were practically touching. She smiled and exhaled a soft sigh as she murmured incomprehensibly in her sleep, and he realized that it was probably time to leave before she woke up. He lifted his hand from her abdomen and heard a barely audible whimper in protest and so he set his hand down and looked at her, waiting for any sign she was awake.

"Jenny?" he queried in barely a whisper.

"Don't go," she whimpered and then placed her hand over his.

"You're sleeping," he said simply.

"I was until you woke me up." She said with a pout but her eyes were teasing, she wrapped her hand around his and played with the wedding ring on his finger. A habit of hers.

"How's the morning sickness? Did you manage to eat anything?"

"No everything smelled disgusting. I had a craving for eggs, started making them and I thought I was going to die." He rolled his eyes. That was his Jenny always, always overdramatic. "Hey I saw that you know." She pinched his fingers in retaliation, smiling up at him innocently all the way. "But yeah, it's better, not gone, hence the nap but better."

He ran a fingertip along her jaw. "Good," he said simply his eyes meeting hers. "I should let you get back to sleep."

"Well, I'm awake now."

He raised his eyebrow and his mouth lifted into a grin. "What do you have going on in that devious mind of yours?"

"C'mere." She demanded tugging him down.

He gently laid his body across hers and gathered her into his arms. His weight was delectable. She closed her eyes and just let the power and strength of him wash over her as she felt his hard, masculine body with every inch of her own.

Rossi sighed. The feel of her warm body against his was still the most incredible sensation he'd ever known. He didn't know why he let her go for as long as he had. To think he almost lost her to Will, the infuriating man who wanted to marry her and raise _his_ child. No way in hell was that going to happen. He made sure of that. Married her his damn self and he was going to make sure this one lasted. Permanently.

Her hands roamed his bare back as he stared down into eyes that warmed him.

JJ closed her eyes as he nuzzled her neck and ran her legs up and down his, cradling him with her body as she brushed her hand through his salt and pepper hair.

He pulled back slightly to raise his head and delivered a kiss to her that shook her entire body. JJ moaned at the heat of his mouth on hers. The feel of his body on top of hers.

"Happy now?" Rossi asked as he pulled her across his chest smiling as she snuggled as close as her belly would allow her to get.

"Delirious."

They had just managed to drift off into a peaceful sleep when the Fax machine placed strategically next to the half-assembled crib at the foot of their bed started making it's telltale whirring noise as it sucked up some paper to spit back out. Rossi sighed as JJ untangled herself from him to waddle to the fax man.

Duty calls.

* * *

Emily grinned as two hands found there way to her neck and began to knead the tensed and sore muscles. "I thought you were asleep." She muttered as she let her head drop forward, her book falling form her lap.

"Was. Why aren't you sleeping?" He questioned sleepily as he sat up behind her and two strong arms wrapped around her stomach pulling her back towards him.

"Felt like reading." She answered as she snuggled back against him, letting out a yawn. "I didn't plan on gettin' lost but" She broke off with a shrug; they both knew it happened quite often. She felt him smile against her neck.

"Come back to bed." He nuzzled her neck, in a way he knew that she loved. With a tired sigh she closed her eyes and snuggled back against him. "I want to finish this one chapter."

He opened his mouth to object but just than his phone started doing it's 'answer me dance' on his nightstand. They shared a look before she crawled out the bed to get her own cell phone that was blasting Elvis's Jailhouse Rock.

She hated early morning calls. They were never good. Not that any of their work was every cheery news. But the ones that come this early in the morning were always the worst.

Last time, they got a call this early. Penelope Garcia had been shot.

She shivered, and picked up her phone. Praying it wasn't a similar case.

* * *

Not even an hour later the entire BAU team were all assembled on the Jet, including Penelope who was still in her pajamas , ignoring Hotch's threat to start drug testing her once he caught sight of her sparkly pink ensemble.

She couldn't help but wince at the brutal images that lay on the coffee table in front of her. Thirteen maybe fourteen folders spread out on the table, each tem member holding a different one with another innocent victim. A whole neatly assembled stack was still at JJ's side.

Women all different ages, all different sizes, all different hair colors and from all different paths of life, His first victim was sixteen year old prostitute in New York. His second a forty-two year old plus size lawyer from Staten Island. His third was a twenty-eight year old corporate manger from Manhattan. His victims were either from New Jersey or New York but there was at least four from other states. Two in Texas. Two Cheerleaders who never came home from a late night practice.

"They were meticulously planned." Derek piped up as he stared at the dead woman in the photograph who looked too much like Garcia for his liking. She was posed perfectly, in her own bed her hair brushed and her makeup redone. Even her fingernails looked recently trimmed.

"He's a sexual sadist. He took his time in the killings and the rapes. Was through. Probably talked to his victims, taunted them or encouraged them to participate." Reid added on to Derek's assessment,

"He carefully used prophylactics. Lubricated prophylactics. Postmortem vaginal smears on the first two Cities victims produced evidence of the lubricant." Rossi threw out as he absentmindedly rubbing JJ's back. He knew how these cases got to her.

"Since the cops never found the condemns, he might have taken them with him. As trophies." Hotch supplied.

"Or he simply ditched the evidence. Cases show he is highly intelligent." Emily threw back, chewing on the tip of her pen. There was so many, twists and so many turns. It was hard to make an accurate profiler with so much contradicting evidence.

"He lusts for the thrill of the stalk, the mental torture is just the appetizer. It's watching them die that he likes best. It's the only way he can get off." Derek muttered, as Emily jotted down a few notes on her legal pad.

"What does this mean for Stella?" Penelope blurted out, from where she was resting her head on Morgan's shoulder. She so didn't do mornings.

When no turned to look at her right away, she had her answer.

And she didn't like it one bit.

**"He won't stop, till' he gets her. As far as he is concerned. She belongs to him."**

**

* * *

**He touched his newly developed photo of Stella wrapped in her bedroom sheet as he carefully drew her likeness on to his sketch pad. She was a slender woman, tall, dark-haired, unconsciously dignified. She often seemed posed, although

He imagined she was unaware of it. Her limbs simply fell into arrangements, her head cocked for a portrait.

**She was perfect in every way. His masterpiece.**

He blew across the paper, to rid it off the excess charcoal so he wouldn't smear it, before holding it up to admire it.

It looked as good as she did. He took out his trademark, his signature if you will. It was a real Quill pen that he acquired in a small shop in Staten Island.

He wrote across the page and gently folded up his work before stuffing it inside the already addressed envelope, along with the roses. (She loved roses.) and a secret gift he went through all the trouble to et just for her. He was sure she would adore his picture as well. It was an accolade of their first intimate time together.

The first of many, he was sure.

He had many plans for his little Evening Star.

**But first he had to get rid of one Mac Taylor. **

**

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**_A/n: That's the second chapter! Phew that was long! And it was even longer but I cut it in half, so expect the third chapter to come your way tomorrow. Since it's halfway written. That will be the last update for this week. I have Biology and Organic Chemistry Midterms this week! Fingers crossed So I must become overly acquainted with my books._

_Hope you enjoyed the latest installment._

**Next Chapter Preview: Danny and Penelope catch up with a blast from their past, and their back-story is explained. Danny, Lindsey, and Morgan get a case of the green- eyed monster. Hotch gets possessive, Stella gets her "gift" and is terrified to see just what it is. And speaking of blast. Something goes Boom with deadly results!**

_Till Next Time! (Even though it's tomorrow – I still wanted to say it!)_

**Thanks for reading and hope you review! Wink , Wink , Nudge , Nudge! Yes that's a hint! I promise to get back to you this time! Lol**

**Dee.**


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